


Flaunt

by unsettled



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Biting, D/s alternate universe, F/M, Hair-pulling, Kinktober, M/M, Multi, Peter gets passed around, Safe Sane and Consensual, Subspace, background relationship - Sam/Steve/Bucky, everyone's just having a fun time, sub!peter, this one is super tricky to tag well sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: Tony’s been wanting to show Peter off for ages, and Peter knows Tony will make sure everyone treats him right.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Peter Parker/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker/James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker/Sam Wilson, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 174
Collections: Unsettled's Kinktober 2020





	Flaunt

**Author's Note:**

> Tricky to tag pairings: Tony/Peter is the actual relationship, Peter is passed around to Natasha, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey. There’s also some Rhodey/Peter/Tony.
> 
> Also this is one of those universes where everyone is D/s. It's not a huge focus but it is present.

"You've still got Friday night free, right?"

"Of course," Peter says, glancing up at Tony. "Why, are we doing something?"

Tony smiles at him, his hand settling on the back of Peter's neck, fingers just sliding into his hair. "I've got a little party planned," he says. "I think it's far past time for me to show you off."

And there it is, that sharp, squirmy feeling in Peter's stomach, nervous and turned on all mixed together. "Show me off?"

"Yeah," Tony says, curling his fingers in Peter's hair and tugging him back, just barely. "There hasn't really been a chance for anyone to see how good you are, how easily all this comes to you." He tightens his hand, Peter's breath catching. "You're not awkward like this, at my side. Not that I mind it the rest of the time," he adds hastily.

Peter laughs. "I know what you mean, Tony," he says. "Uh— who's going to be there?"

"No one you don't already know," Tony says. "Mostly Avengers, maybe a few others. I don't think Thor will be around, but I can rope Rhodey in for sure. Scott, maybe, though I guess you haven't been around him much."

"Tony," Peter hisses, "that's not better! Ugh, they all know me, yeah but— they've never seen me like that, it's embarrassing."

"Hey, it's okay; they all like you, Peter," Tony says. "They're not going to be weird or judge you, you know that. No one on the team, no one who's worked with you is going to treat you differently just because you're finally getting a sub presentation. They aren't like that, baby."

"But—" Peter says, weakly. He's not really ashamed of being a sub, it's just... they already treat him not quite the same because he's the youngest. And it's different, having anyone see him like that.

"Does anyone treat Steve any different?" Tony asks, and Peter shakes his head. "They're not going to think less of you. I know this. I know you get shy easily, but I promise, I'd make sure you had a good time. And you like being a little embarrassed, don't you." Peter scrunches up his face, but he has to nod.

Tony hesitates, his hand softer, brushing across Peter's scalp. "If you're really bothered," he says, "we don't have to."

Peter thinks about it, trying to shove away that immediate burst of wanting to hide. He does know them all, and he can't think of a safer group for this. And— and he knows Tony wants to have others see him, admire him. He can't help it, just like any other dom.

"No," Peter says, turning his face into Tony's leg. "We can do it." Shivers. "I— I wouldn't mind being shown off."

Tony's 'good boy' is soft, barely a breath, but Peter hears it. He always hears it.

*

He still falters when the moment comes.

Tony catches it the instant he falls out of step, lags a little too far behind Tony. He just— seeing everyone, knowing everyone is about to see him— his stomach flips and he can feel his face going hot, tight. It's not good form, but he reaches over and clings to Tony's jacket anyway. Tony stops, turns back to him.

"Hey," he says, softly. "Just say the word and we can leave, but— you trust them, right?" Peter nods, because of course he does. He's fought beside all of them, and if he can trust them to watch his back, to catch him if he falls, to keep him safe, surely he can trust them to see him sub.

"Okay," he tells Tony.

Tony steers them over to the group by the big L shaped couch; Natasha, curled up in a chair, Rhodey on one leg of the couch, and Steve and Bucky down at Sam's feet at the other side of it. They seem to be arguing about something, not seriously, and they barely react at first. But they go quiet soon enough when Tony stops and Peter sinks to his knees beside him.

"Finally bringing him out?" Sam says.

"It's overdue," Tony says, "but worth the wait, I'll have you know." He rests his hand on the top of Peter's head, and ahhh, Peter can't look at any of them. He ducks his head, blushing horribly.

Someone laughs; maybe Steve, he thinks. "I didn't think you'd be shy," Steve says. "You sure spend enough time chatting in the middle of missions."

"You're one to talk," Bucky mutters.

"Aw, be nice," Rhodey says. "Look at him, how can you pick at that? You always did go for the sweet ones with a smart mouth," he tells Tony.

"Peter," Natasha says. "Look up. Let us see you."

Tony doesn't make a move to push Peter into it; he never would. Peter raises his head, still keeping his eyes down, and then sighs. This is silly. He's not embarrassed to kneel next to Tony. He's proud of it, that Tony chose him.

"There you go," Natasha says. "Much better."

"Beautiful, sweetheart," Tony says, under his breath like he does when it's just for Peter, and it's a weird feeling to know that most of the others can hear it anyway.

"Think you can keep him occupied for a bit?" Tony asks them. "I have to at least say hi before I get all caught up in him again."

Rhodey snorts. "Like you don't know the answer to that," he says. "Go on, hand him over."

"Honeybear, I know you'll take care of him. But I did tell him he'd have a good time."

"We can manage that too," Steve says, smiling at Peter, and god, Peter feels so— nervous and jittery, that he's about to be passed off like this, given a chance to show off what Tony has. "Guides?"

"Mmm, keep it mostly above the belt?" Tony says. "You can look, touch, lose the clothes, but don't get him off." He tugs Peter's head back, looking down and catching his eye, and they'd talked about this but Peter still feels exposed, even fully dressed. "He likes kissing, likes getting marked up; doesn't mind if it hurts a bit. Well, you know how to handle that sort of enhancement," he adds.

"It never lasts," Steve says, and sighs.

"Not for lack of trying," Sam mutters, and Steve grins at him.

"It's pretty while it lasts," Tony says. He drops his hand to Peter's neck, and Peter shivers. "He likes having his hair played with," Tony says, lower, watching him. "His neck too. He's... sensitive."

He ducks down, pulling Peter up on his knees to kiss him. "I'm sure you'll figure something fun out," he says.

Natasha crooks a finger at Peter as Tony wanders away. “First dibs,” she says. That’s fine with Peter; he shuffles forward on his knees a little awkwardly and ends up between her legs, looking up. She smiles, small but definitely there, and Peter relaxes.

She’s  _ mean. _

Ok, maybe not mean, but she teases. She’s delicate with him, carefully running her hands through Peter’s hair, scraping her nails down his neck, lightly enough it almost tickles. Slowly, slowly curls her fingers in his hair and tugs his head back, inch by inch, and leans forward over him and just… stays there, barely any space between their lips but not kissing him. Stays there, like she’s waiting for something, and even though Peter knows it’s too forward, he pushes up a little and goes for it. 

He gets a second of her lips on his, and then her hand tightens painfully, yanking him back. She moves with him though, staying as close as before but no closer, her free hand coming up and raking down his neck, the same path she’d traced so gently. Peter yelps. 

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asks, her breath warm against his lips. He looks at her, uncertain. 

“Yes?” he says.

“I’m waiting,” she says, not giving him any leeway. Peter bites his lip and leans in, pulling against her grip in his hair. Pulling until it hurts, and she’s moving back a little more and more and that’s not  _ fair. _ He pushes forward, fast, and gets one kiss, soft and warm and really, really nice, before she’s distancing herself again. 

“Come on, Peter,” she says, smirking. 

She tips him back and forth like that, teasing him and making him do the work of hurting himself, pulling against her hold and pushing into her nails and trying desperately for each kiss, and it’s kind of embarrassing that he’s hard. 

He gasps when her grip suddenly eases, letting him fall forward into her lap, tipping his head up and kissing him, long and slow and so hot, until he’s struggling to catch his breath, moaning softly. “Do I have to share?” she says as she pulls back, glancing up behind him. 

There’s a huff, and she must be getting glares from some of them. “Fine,” she says, giving him a little shove towards Steve and Bucky and he almost tips over on the way to them. Steve catches him at the last second, and Bucky huffs. "Not normally clumsy, Peter."

"You've got me all messed up," Peter mutters.

"We haven't even gotten started," Steve tells him, and then Steve's hand is in his hair, pulling him in. It's so much bigger than Natasha's hands, bigger than Tony's, and when he curls his fingers and tugs Peter's hair, Peter gasps softly into his mouth. Steve never pulls hard, but he's really good at turning his hand just so, catching little pieces of hair in a way that makes it sting, sharper than a good yank. He's pretty good at kissing too, but Peter isn't giving that quite as much attention.

Especially not when there's another pair of hands on him, across his shoulders and sliding down his back, catching the edge of his shirt and pulling it up. "Come on, Steve," Bucky says. "You've gotta let go for me to get this off." Steve gives Peter another kiss, softer, another tug, harder, and lets him go. Bucky's got Peter's shirt over his head and off before Peter has a chance to catch his breath, and then his hand is in Peter's hair instead, bending him back to kiss him.

They pass him back and forth between them like that, one of them with a hand in Peter's hair nearly every second, yanking him around and holding him in place when he jerks. Steve kisses him more than anything, his hands all over Peter's chest, teasing his nipples and Peter is  _ so _ hard. Bucky ends up pulling Peter's hair the most, switching between his metal arm and his real one; Peter can feel the difference, even if he can't see it. The metal one is cooler against his scalp, the plates catching individual hairs and even pulling them out every now and then, making Peter whimper, making his eyes water.

"You really are pretty," Bucky says, right in Peter's ear, and kisses all along his neck. Peter moans, feeling even more sensitive than usual, which is saying a lot. Steve catches Peter's chin, trapping him between their hands, and kisses him.

"They're all watching us," Steve whispers. "All those doms, enjoying the show we're putting on," and Peter shivers. "Yeah, I thought you'd like that," Steve says. "You're a people pleaser, aren't you. You're just the sweetest thing, Peter. Bet you don't give Tony any trouble at all."

Peter starts to giggle at that, that ridiculous thought, right as Bucky yanks his hair hard. "Oh god," Peter gasps, "no, I mean, I am, uh." Bucky kisses his neck, kisses all along his shoulder and Peter tries to catch his breath. "I'm a lot of trouble," he says. "Really am, I don't mean to be but I am."

"I'm not surprised," Rhodey says, and Peter starts. "Tony likes trouble."

Steve snorts, right against Peter's neck. "Yeah, that's true." He glances up, bumping Sam's leg. "He's not the only one."

"You've got that right," Sam says. "Or I wouldn't have been crazy and taken on both of you. Here, let me have a go at him. You've had your fun."

Peter's starting to feel a little out of it; not super, not drifty, but not really all there either, and it takes a minute for him to figure out where they're trying to put him, laughing at his clumsiness. It's nice laughing though, Steve tossling his hair once he gets Peter situated on Sam's lap, Bucky kissing his shoulder before he drops back down against Steve.

Sam's got him kneeling over him, straddling his lap; even settled all the way on him, Peter's looking down at Sam. "Hi," Peter says, feeling a little shy again. He still doesn't know Sam quite as well, and he seems sharper sometimes.

"Hi," Sam says back, and he's barely holding back a laugh. "I'll give it to Tony, you are cute." Peter scrunches up his face; he haaaates being called cute. "No?" Sam says.

"Don't wanna be cute," Peter mutters. "I'm not like, little or delicate or soft."

"No, you're not, are you," Sam says. He scratches his nails against Peter's scalp, this amazing, awful sensation, and then he tugs Peter down, Peter's hands braced against the back of the couch.

Presses his mouth to Peter's neck and  _ bites. _

"Omigod," Peter gasps. "Oh, fuck!" It's not a soft, nice little bite; it hurts, Sam's teeth hard against his skin. He sucks at that spot, pressing his tongue to it, teasing it, and Peter starts squirming despite himself. Sam's hand tightens in Peter's hair, and when he finally pulls back Peter's whining.

He jerks when Sam presses his thumb to that spot, tender. "Not delicate," he says. "But you are sensitive; Tony was right about that. More than either of them, that's for sure."

Sam's hand tightens more, pulling Peter's head back further, further, arching his back. Peter yelps when Sam bites him again, just as hard even if it doesn't last long, and then again, and again, working across his shoulder. He's panting when Sam stops, letting Peter's head fall forward.

"How quick do they fade?" he asks, and Peter has to take a moment before he can answer.

"Uh," he says, "mostly— mostly gone in about a day? If they're really dark. The lighter ones don't even last half a day anymore."

"Mmm," Sam hums. "Well, I've got some practice in keeping special little things like you marked up. It's a good thing you don't mind hurting some."

He's as good as his word, biting and sucking all over Peter's neck, hard, deep bites that make Peter sob and jerk and hurt. He'd hide his face against Sam if he could, but Sam keeps Peter' head pulled back, his hand firm and tight in Peter's hair, holding him in place. Peter shudders, so turned on he can hardly stand it; he feels like his whole neck must be one giant mass of purple and red marks, layered over each other. He yanks harder against Sam's grip at the next bite, his hips snapping forward.

"Looks like he really likes the hurting," Natasha says, and Peter can feel himself blushing again.

Sam pulls back, looks at him. "Aw," he says, "look at how red you are," and he tugs Peter's face around, until everyone can see. Peter whines, closing his eyes. "Think you can rut a little without getting off?" Peter nods, as much as he can with Sam holding his head. Tony's worked hard on that with him, and Peter has gotten so good at holding back.

"Good," Sam says, and this time he tugs Peter forward instead, tucking his face into the curve of Sam's neck, grabbing his waist and pulling him in closer. "Go on then," Sam says, and ducks his head, sinking his teeth into Peter's shoulder, his hand twisting in Peter's hair. Peter groans and then he's rubbing up against Sam, not nearly enough pressure, just enough to keep him trying for more, his cock thrusting along Sam's stomach. He can feel Sam's cock too, hard right against his, but he can't do much more than grind down onto it as he rocks.

It all feels so good, Sam’s hand in his hair, his mouth on Peter’s neck, his thigh as Peter rubs against it— too good, too soon. “Wait,” Peter gasps, “wait, wait.”

Sam yanks him back by his hair, hard, and that’s so not helpful actually, even if it pulls Peter’s dick away from any contact. “Don’t,” Sam says, “you don’t want to let Tony down.”

Peter shudders, getting control of himself; he can do it, he knows he can, Tony’s trained him on this so much. “I won’t,” he whispers, “I don’t, I never let him down.” Sam laughs, but it’s not mean.

“He tell you that?” Sam asks.

All the time, Peter thinks, and he’s starting to believe it. He nods.

“Of course he does,” Rhodey says. “He means it too. Hand him over, Sam, you’ve had your turn.”

“Oh, fine,” Sam says, and helps Peter get his leg over him, Peter feeling clumsy, almost weak. Gives him a slap on the ass as he starts to move away and Peter squeaks. 

He crawls across the corner of the couch towards Rhodey, settling back on his heels next to him, and he’s more nervous about Rhodey than anyone. It’s not that he doesn’t know Rhodey, like with Sam, but— Rhodey’s special; Tony might not say it but he totally takes Rhodey’s opinions seriously. 

He wants to impress Rhodey.

Rhodey slides his hand up Peter’s neck into his hair, pulling his head back. “You know Tony adores you, kid,” he says, very softly, and Peter feels his face heat. “You’ve been making him happier than I’ve seen in a while.”

“I’m trying,” Peter whispers. 

“You’re doing good,” Rhodey says, and that feels so good to hear, like a burst of warmth spreading from his chest. If Rhodey thinks that—

Rhodey pulls him down then, turning Peter’s head as he goes, his hand not too tight in Peter’s hair. Keeps pulling him past the point where Peter overbalances and almost faceplants in Rhodey’s lap, but it seems like that’s what Rhodey actually wants, because he doesn’t stop until Peter’s cheek is resting on his thigh. 

He runs a hand down Peter’s back, pressing at him. “Stretch out,” he says. “Get comfy; I’m keeping you here awhile.” 

It isn’t like with the others, the way Rhodey plays with him. He doesn’t know how to describe it, really. Sort of— not sexual at all, but it still is, when Rhodey’s hand drops down, his thumb brushing across Peter’s lips, sometimes sliding his other hand down to squeeze Peter’s ass. It’s almost like Peter’s an afterthought, the way he keeps Peter’s head pinned to his thigh and pets him, threading his fingers through Peter’s hair gently, softly, little scratches sometimes. Lulls him into this drifty, dreamy state where Peter isn’t thinking about anything other than Rhodey’s touch.

Almost an afterthought as Rhodey talks with the others, words Peter can’t even make sense of right now, but he’s not, it doesn’t feel like that at all. Especially not when Rhodey tightens his grip, not pulling Peter anywhere, just twisting up his hair and hurting. Peter presses his face into Rhodey’s leg and gasps, whimpers every time, his fingers digging in as well; when it goes on, he starts thrashing a little, unable to help himself. 

He doesn’t really want to break free, but he can’t stay still.

It hurts, it  _ hurts _ and Peter likes it, every single second. 

Rhodey soothes him again after each harsh yank, back to that soft, slow petting until Peter’s barely keeping his eyes open, nestled against Rhodey’s leg. Drags him back and forth between soft and harsh and there’s no rhythm to it that Peter can figure out, that he wants to figure out. He can feel himself starting to drift a bit, starting to get distant and quiet in the back of his head, losing hold of all his thoughts. 

He doesn’t even start when he feels another hand slide into his hair alongside Rhodey’s, when it pulls him upward. Peter blinks, things coming back into focus, and oh, it’s Tony, Tony’s back, crouched next to him and smiling. 

“Having fun, sweetheart?” he says. 

Peter’s not very good at words right now, but he can nod, relishing the tiny points of pain as it tugs his hair in their hands. Tony smiles a little bigger and glances up at Rhodey. “Has he been good?”

“More than,” Rhodey says. “It’s pretty obvious why you’ve gotten so attached to him.”

“Mmm,” Tony says. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a dream like this, but Peter’s more than something pretty to sit at my feet and you know it.”

“Did you really think I was just talking about that?”

The look Tony gives Rhodey is so close to the ones he gives Peter sometimes, soft and fond and like he’s had something go right. “Of course not, honeybear.” He glances around at the others; “Anyone mind if I give him a treat?”

Peter guesses the answer is no, because Tony’s standing up, flipping Peter over onto his back and settling down by his legs. “Wanna hold him?” Tony asks Rhodey. “It won’t keep him still, but it’s fun to watch him fight it.”

“Love to,” Rhodey says, and then his hands are back in Peter’s hair, pulling his head further into Rhodey’s lap until he can’t see Tony, can’t do anything but look up at Rhodey. 

Tony’s hands hook into the waist of Peter’s pants, and he jerks against Rhodey’s hands for a moment, trying to look down; Rhodey tightens his grip, leans down and kisses him. 

He’s still sighing into Rhodey’s mouth when Tony licks up the length of his dick, his lips closing over the tip. “Oh god,” Peter moans, “Tony, please.” 

Peter had already been pretty out of it when Tony came back, already wound up and just existing, no thoughts and no worries, nothing but want and feeling and response. He’d already been awfully close to flying, and this— this drops him over the edge, completely. 

Some part of his head is aware of the way he’s thrusting up into Tony’s mouth, Tony taking it happily, drooling around him; is aware that Peter’s tossing his head back and forth, fighting against Rhodey’s tight grip on his hair, only making it worse with every yank. Is even a little aware that the others must be watching him, watching them, watching just like Rhodey’s looking down at him, Tony looking up, their gaze so heavy on Peter he can feel it, just like he can feel everything, every touch and every texture and every single spot his body is in contact with anything. Can feel  _ everything, _ too much, overwhelming, amazing, and he doesn’t know if it’s that, or the pain of Rhodey’s grasp, or the wave crashing down on him as he comes that have him crying. Maybe it’s all of them, or maybe it’s just that he’s wanted like this, kept and held and wanted. 

Rhodey kisses him, gently, and Tony crawls up over him; kisses Rhodey and kisses Peter and Peter could stay just like this forever. He can see Tony’s mouth moving, talking to him, then Rhodey, then him again, but his head is full of nothing but static, white noise.

Tony gathers him up then, Peter not helping even a little, closing his eyes. He just lets Tony shift him around until Peter’s kneeling over one of his thighs, tucked up against him and his head buried in Tony’s neck. Tony hooks his arm around Peter’s shoulder, his hand resting on Peter’s head, and keeps him there. Keeps slowly dragging his fingers through Peter’s hair, across his scalp, soft unending touches that keep Peter in that quiet space in his head. Tony’s talking with the others, gesturing big enough with his other hand that Peter can feel it, but it’s all just noise to Peter. 

He nuzzles into Tony’s skin and lets Tony keep him safe.


End file.
